


Take Me Home

by soymilktea



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Coming of Age, Convenience Store, M/M, teenagers to adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 23:35:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17949320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soymilktea/pseuds/soymilktea
Summary: "They could compare themselves to yin and yang if they wanted to, but they don’t. Instead, they argue about the coolest Pokemon, (Junhui says it’s Charizard, Minghao says it’s Mewtwo. Minghao wins) and talk about existentialism for the hell of it."





	1. Why are you here at this ungodly hour?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by SEVENTEEN'S "HOME."

The streets of Seoul reminds Minghao of Anshan, fast-paced and congested. Walks faster than he runs. Not that he minds or cares but the thought keeps him occupied. The familiarity tends to make him feel sick in the stomach at times, sometimes it becomes all too familiar that he decides it’s too much to take. Causes him to miss Anshan even more. Seoul is where he lives but it’s not his home. In his opinion, Seoul may never be his home and he’s alright with that because it gives him even more of a reason to return back to Anshan when he’s eighteen and gets handed the reigns to his life. 

It’s been a particularly dreary night. Forecasts suggest it’s just passing clouds. Bullshit. Pouring rain decides to bucket down because you know, fuck the forecast. Minghao is left to run to god knows where he has come too far to go back to their apartment. 

Camouflaged by his rain-sodden hood, Minghao, anonymously, slips through the late-night crowds, taking advantage of the strangers’ umbrellas. Minghao considers himself lucky for being able to spot a convenience store in the midst of the many bodies around him. Even though there are convenience stores within every block of this city, Minghao doesn't pay attention to them. 

Minghao flailing at the doors, aching lungs and heavy body. Catches the attention of the employee behind the counter, startled by his clumsy entry. Abandoning their textbook on the counter. 

“Excuse me… are you-- are you alright?” Ever so softly spoken. A voice like silk. Minghao’s curiosity became his curse, enticing him to look up. He might as well have been struck by Cupid. A boy standing there, confused and beautiful.

“I- um, yeah, I’m okay.” Minghao cringes at his accent but re-composes himself. Straightens up and takes off his hood. The boy is taller than him but not by a whole lot, with dark eyes and ebony hair. Minghao wills himself not to observe even more. 

“Oh- alright, um… would you-- like a towel?” 

It’s then Minghao remembers he is dripping wet and probably has a puddle surrounding him. “...Yes, um, sorry about the floor.” 

“No, no it’s fine, just wait here, I’ll be back in a sec.” He leaves and Minghao is left on his own. It’s a small convenience store that’s also empty, then again, it’s about 10 pm and most people are probably home sleeping the night away by this point. He wishes that he could be sleeping peacefully too but there’s no such thing as a quiet night back at the apartment. 

Minghao wasn’t left alone long enough to dwell in those thoughts. The boy- Junhwi, he reads on the nametag, returns a mop in one hand and a towel in the other. He thanks him, quietly and soaks up as much water he can as Junhwi mops the puddle around him. 

“Junhwi is a nice name,” Minghao blurts, out of the blue. No going back, “what does it mean?” 

Junhwi freezes for a moment and responses, shyly. “Thanks… it’s-- it’s from my Chinese name.” 

It’s Minghao’s turn to freeze, “you’re… you’re Chinese?” It’s been 3 months since he’s used the familiar tones with someone other than his parents, though it’s felt like forever. 

“You are too?” Minghao nods and they gaze at each other in silence with shocked expressions. Junhwi is the first to speak, “then… what’s your name?” 

“Seo Myungho or Xu Minghao.” 

“Moon Junhwi or Wen Junhui.” Junhwi- or rather Junhui smiles, big and bright. It’s a little boxy and shows off his braces. Minghao thinks it’s cute and it seems to be contagious. Considering Minghao involuntarily smiles back. 

The towel ends up soaked and Minghao still feels drenched so he opts for just taking off the heavy hoodie, leaving him in his long sleeve shirt that is a little bit drier and damp jeans. It could be worse. Junhui takes the towel off him and leaves with the two items. Minghao takes this chance to wander. Snacks, boxed meals and instant foods. Minghao digs through his pockets, finds about 700 won. Better than nothing, instant ramen it is. 

By the time Minghao gets to the counter, Junhui is already there behind it, waiting. Minghao wordlessly hands him a cup of noodles and Junhui scans it, 650 won he says and Minghao pays. 

Beats of silence past, only the sounds of some poppy kpop song and Minghao making his ramen fills the air. It’s awkward, very awkward. Minghao sits at a table nearest to the counter. The song changes, still an energetic kpop song and the vibe of it starts to irk Minghao a bit. “Do you-- do you have any other songs?” He asks quietly. 

“Do you have recommendations?” Minghao stays silent. Junhui hums and changes the song, anyways. Softer, simpler a gentle piano accompaniment beneath a female singing voice. It’s an improvement from before. 

Junhui shuffles himself over to sit across from Minghao. Junhui taps mindlessly at the table beneath his fingertips. “So… what were you-- what are you doing here at this ungodly hour?” He questions. 

Minghao sighs “wanted some fresh air but it started raining before I could get back.” It’s not a lie but it’s also not the complete truth. Junhui seems satisfied with the answer and gives a nod. “Why are you working at the ungodly hours of the night?” 

Junhui shrugs, “it’s not like I’m doing anything productive while I’m at home at this hour.” 

“Is sleep not productive?” 

“Not when you can’t.” The sentence hangs and the topic stops there. “How old are you?” 

Minghao wonders if he should lie, “fourteen.” He tells the truth anyway, “you?” 

“Fifteen.” Conversation stops there. Minghao eats his noodles and Junhui brings his textbook over to mindlessly flip through the pages as he accompanies Minghao. It’s nice, he guesses. To eat with someone, even if he’s the only one eating at least he’s not completely alone. 

Minghao finishes his noodles at 11 pm and continues to make a conversation with Junhui. They get along well enough. It doesn’t take rocket science to notice that they are different in many ways. Junhui’s soft-spoken but confident, Minghao’s rough on the edges but mild. 

They could compare themselves to yin and yang if they wanted to, but they don’t. Instead, they argue about the coolest Pokemon, (Junhui says it’s Charizard, Minghao says it’s Mewtwo. Minghao wins) and talk about existentialism for the hell of it. 

It’s 2 am when Junhui’s shift ends, swapping over with a half-asleep adult whom Junhui gives a smile and nod to. The rain stopped ages ago and they leave together, walk together-- turns out they live in close proximity to each other. On the way, Junhui rambles about his shitty literature teacher and Minghao listens. It’s 2:15 am when they reach an apartment complex, the one that Minghao lives in. Junhui asks if he has a phone, he does not. 

Junhui dismisses it and bids him goodnight. They both know, they’ll see each other again because Junhui works 5 days a week at the same ungodly hours and Minghao, Minghao knows he’ll go to that same convenience store again. Most likely tomorrow but he doesn’t admit that. 

They part ways, made a silent agreement to meet again. Minghao waits until Junhui’s silhouette is out of sight before heading up to the apartment. 

He sneaks himself inside, quietly and blindly makes his way to his room. To his bed, flopping on it throwing his semi-dry hoodie somewhere on the floor and just sleeps. 

… 

They meet again the next night and the night after that and the night after that. Minghao basically has been visiting Junhui at his every shift for the past month or so. They don’t go to the same school and Minghao doesn’t have a phone yet, so they can’t arrange a spontaneous hangout. Nightly visits to the convenience store are enough. 

Some nights are spent in silence, some are full of arguments, some are philosophical and some are surface conversations. In Minghao’s defence, Junhui comes up with the majority of the questions that starts it all. Not that he minds, it keeps it interesting. They learn more about each other, Minghao learns Junhui’s favourite colour is white, he plays the piano and his favourite subject is biology. The basics. Junhui learns the same things about Minghao and now it’s an establish bond they’ve created. 

Tonight it starts off silent, Minghao had something on his mind. Junhui’s known him long enough to figure that out, Junhui strides towards Minghao from the counter and takes a 100 won coin from his pocket, he holds it in front of Minghao’s face. “A penny for your thoughts?” 

Minghao raises an eyebrow in question, “we don’t use pennies.” He gestures to 100 won coin. 

“Your point?” Junhui sits across from Minghao. Same table, same chairs as to when they first met. 

Minghao sighs, “do you consider South Korea as your home?” 

Junhui sits and ponders for a moment. “If I said no?” 

“Then we’d finally agree on something.” 

Junhui scoffs, “I don’t think I consider anywhere my home.” 

“Not even Shenzhen?” 

“Not even Shenzhen.” 

Minghao doesn’t know of Junhui’s childhood. All he knows was that Junhui grew up in Shenzhen and came here to Korea about 2 years ago. Why? He doesn’t know that either. The question is saved for another day and he instead relaxes, closes his eyes and listens to the ballad Junhui had put on, added bonus for it being in mandarin and extra bonus as he hears Junhui start to sing along. 

Junhui has a nice voice, it’s thin, soft and perfect for ballads in Minghao’s opinion. He could probably fall asleep to the older boy’s voice. 

They’re fourteen and fifteen, teenagers lost in the fast-paced city of Seoul and at times, Minghao thinks it’s all too much.


	2. Where will you go?

Junhui wakes up to tangled sheets and a smaller figure next to him. 

Minghao stays over a lot. Not that Junhui’s complaining, he’s accustomed to the younger’s presence. Minghao’s the last thing Junhui sees most nights and the first face he wakes up to most mornings. Junhui runs a hand gently through Minghao’s hair, it’s a little dry and Junhui blames the shitty shampoo Minghao’s parents buy for him. 

The time is 6 am, the morning sun rises at this time and so do they. Junhui softly calls to the younger, beckoning him to wake. Minghao stirs a little but is still unfazed, Junhui calls for him a little louder and shakes him a bit. Only then does Minghao open his eyes. 

“Good morning, Haohao.” Minghao has a dazed expression, confused for a moment before he realises, oh, he stayed the night. It’s amusing to Junhui, how Minghao always tends to be confused right after waking up. Causes him to giggle a bit and Minghao hits him lightly. 

They get up, eventually and do a morning routine that Minghao integrates himself into. Minghao has his toothbrush, his brush, his clothes- including uniform, hell he even brings the god-awful shampoo that Junhui throws away every time (Minghao doesn’t protest, he hates it too). 

They leave the apartment together, walk to the train station in silence and they promise to meet again at the convenience store Junhui still works at. Then they part ways when Minghao’s train arrives before Junhui’s. Bid a “see you later” because goodbyes tend to hurt their hearts. 

… 

It’s 3 am, Junhui’s shift ended half an hour ago. He was going to walk Minghao back to his apartment but Minghao wanted to take a detour. Junhui doesn’t argue and like always he follows the younger.

They end up in a playground. Minghao is hanging upside down on the monkey bars. Junhui observes him from a metre away and asks, “where are we?” 

When Minghao’s face is significantly redder he flips himself up to sit atop the playground equipment. “An old safe haven,” he answers. Minghao gestures for Junhui to join him, to which he complies. Junhui props himself up and sits beside Minghao. It’s uncomfortable and his ass is probably going to start aching soon but he ignores it. 

“Do you ever wonder, about the world outside of here,” Minghao questions. Junhui doesn’t know if it was directed to him or to no one. All he knows is that Minghao is in full philosophical mode, with a far-off expression and eyes trained at the buildings in front of them. Junhui knows Minghao’s trying to find a horizon behind the skyscrapers. 

“Of course I do,” Junhui replies anyways. “Why do you ask?” 

“I want to leave this place. Don’t you?” 

Junhui does. “Where will you go?” 

“Anywhere… anywhere that’s away.” Two years ago Minghao would’ve replied with Anshan. “What about you, where will you go?” 

“...With you.” Two years ago he wouldn’t have answered. 

They’re sixteen and seventeen and Junhui wonders where the time went.


	3. Can I sleep with you tonight?

Minghao lies awake on his own bed, stares at the ceiling tracing patterns with his eyes out of complete boredom. He’s twenty years old, studying in university and has an exam in the afternoon. He doubts that he’s awake from nerves, he doesn't think he’s particularly unprepared. It’s just one of those nights, he guesses. Minghao sighs and sits up, observes the small room he calls his own, the only source of light coming from the moon shining through his window. 

The dorm is quiet, much quieter than what he’s used to. It’s a good thing, Junhui told him once, he can finally just spend a day in without having to worry about anything. Minghao supposes he’s right. Speaking of the older, Minghao figures he’s awake. It’s 1:53 am and Junhui’s sleeping patterns are unpredictable. 

Minghao gets out of his bed and tiptoes out of his room to Junhui’s. Cautious of the other dormmates, the walls a paper thin and he hopes he didn’t accidentally wake any of them. They’re all on good terms and he wants it to stay that way. Minghao decides against knocking and just opens the door as quietly as possible, he slips inside and shuts the door behind him. 

Junhui’s figure faces towards him, eyes closed and he looks like he’s sleeping. Minghao goes and crouches beside the bed. “Jun gē,” he whispers. “Are you awake?” 

Junhui opens his eyes immediately, “you already know the answer to that.” The answer’s yes, to anyone wondering. “Hao, is there something wrong?” 

Minghao shakes his head no, “I just-- can’t fall asleep, either… can I sleep with you, tonight?” 

Junhui doesn’t hesitate to lift his blanket up and allow Minghao to shuffle closer to him. He wraps his long limbs around Minghao, tucks the younger away from the world and keeps him close. Minghao allows himself to be held by Junhui because Junhui is comforting and gentle. He’ll take Minghao by the hand and guide him through loud places, he’ll whisper sweet nothings into his ear as Minghao cries into his shirt because Minghao isn’t as strong as he seems. In return, Minghao sings lullabies for Junhui to drift off to, he’ll hug Junhui and lets him listen to his heart because he gets easily overwhelmed and needs something constant to keep him from hyperventilating. 

It’s a system of trust and unspoken needs they’ve built. In a big, vast universe they’ve made their own small one to match. For the fact that this big one couldn’t give two shits about them in the first place, so they do their own thing. All that matters is that it’s theirs and they made it together. 

Junhui is warm, Minghao likes to use Junhui as his own personal heater. Junhui doesn’t mind. Minghao hums a soft melody and Junhui closes his eyes to listen, it’s a melody from an old mandarin song. One of Junhui’s favourites, in fact. He grins a little as Minghao’s humming fades to slow breathing and Junhui’s own conscious decides to rest, too. 

They’re twenty and twenty-one and they’ve found comfort in each other’s arms.


	4. I'm home

Minghao drags Junhui through secluded streets and artsy alleyways. Minghao had heard the ‘graffiti’ here is beautiful, he wasn’t disappointed. Florence is different from Seoul, different from Anshan. More widespread and open. With ‘old-timey’ buildings (as Junhui calls it), new cuisine that they’ve definitely had before but not at the professionalism that they can experience here and the amount of preciseness of their surrounding area that neither of them could find in South Korea or China. The air seems-- smells clearer too, Junhui doesn’t think it’s a memorable factor but Minghao does. 

Minghao stops to take photos of the aesthetic architecture and intricate paintings because he likes to keep nice photos in a shared gallery, while Junhui tags along and poses for a couple of them because he’s not that great at photography. 

“Do you like it here?” Minghao asks suddenly. 

Junhui gazes at him questioningly, “yes, I do. Why?” 

Minghao shrugs, “just wanted to know.” 

A couple of more photos and one meal later, they’re sat on the balcony of the motel drinking cheap, crappy beer for fine wine, they feel, is too fancy for them in the first place. The motel room is small and only has one bed but it does the job. They’d share a bed anyways. 

Junhui glances at Minghao and the younger is comfortably sat in his chair and he stares at the horizon and this time he can see it. Watching the sun slowly set, painting the once blue sky a peachy orange and purple that could resemble lavender, Junhui’s doesn’t know the specifics of colour. “Have you found it yet? Your home, that is,” Minghao whispers the question, barely audible. 

Home is where the heart is, as the saying goes. If that's the case, Junhui thinks the answer’s obvious. He opts for taking one of Minghao’s hands, holds them in his own and gently runs his thumb over the knuckles. Minghao doesn’t need the reply, he understands anyway. 

They watch the rest of the sunset in silence, beer bottles finished and heart’s content. When they go back inside, Junhui turns on on old mandarin radio station on his phone. Junhui likes sappy songs because he’s a sappy person, Minghao hates to admit how it’s grown on him-- so he doesn’t. Alternatively, he lets Junhui convince him to dance in the small room, to take his hand and follow his steps. They’re both giggly and uncoordinated despite the many years they devoted to the dance club but it’s not like they care right now. 

… 

They return to Beijing a week later, already missing the openness of Florence. Yet, at the same time, they’ve missed the bustling late nights of Beijing.

Junhui starts his first job not long after from that and Minghao is attending to his university classes again soon. 

They’re twenty-four and twenty-five, they share a life and a world because they’ve found a home. 

… 

Minghao blinks and he’s fifteen-years-old with a sixteen-year-old Junhui across from him. Minghao stares at the poem in front of him, the Korean Hangul is confusing and he’s given up on deciphering it half way through while Junhui rambles on about bubble tea and Minghao listens to that instead. 

Until Junhui suddenly stops his passionate talk and Minghao notices instantly. He raises his head to gaze at Junhui, “why’d you stop talking?” 

“I finished-”

“That’s a lie, you stopped mid-sentence.” Minghao points out. 

Junhui stares at him for a second before turning his gaze anywhere but on Minghao. “I, I didn’t think you were listening.” 

“Clearly I was.” He places the poem face down on the table and gives his full attention to Junhui, “so continue.” 

“Okay… well-” and he continues. Minghao found himself being more invested in this topic of bubble tea of all things and Junhui just wants to make a goddamn point. 

They’re teenagers who couldn’t be more different from each other but, they make it work. Especially since they’re both in search of something that’s right before them. 

They’ll figure it out at some point.


End file.
